


Under Duress

by keloidal (Filomena)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Rain, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:41:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26064409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filomena/pseuds/keloidal
Summary: The thing with Tsukishima is that he’s perceptive. Sometimes it’s impressive, sometimes it’s annoying, and other times, it makes you feel like you’re being examined under a magnifying glass.From the way Tsukishima looks at Yamaguchi, this time it constitutes as the latter.Tsukishima doesn't wear his headphones one day. Yamaguchi finds it difficult to talk around him.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 120
Collections: TsukkiYama Week 2020





	Under Duress

It’s raining today. The sky has been a downcast, dreary thing, and Yamaguchi can’t bring himself to look at it.

“How long do you think it’ll rain, Tsukki?” he asks, watching Tsukishima stuff his headphones into his bag.

Tsukishima whips out his phone, flipping to the weather app. “Around seven hours,” he says, brows furrowing slightly.

Yamaguchi toes the gravel under his feet. “That’s long.”

“Everything’s going to be drenched.” Tsukishima zips up his bag, hauling it over his shoulder. “We should leave before we get soaked.”

The absence of Tsukishima’s headphones stick out like a sore thumb. Yamaguchi stares at the empty spot where the cables should be.

“Yeah.”

Tsukishima walks past the grate. The sky looks like it’s going to rumble, and it looms threateningly over their heads.

Yamaguchi wishes it would. The silence is strange and stilted.

“Did Hinata and Kageyama leave already?” he asks, after careful deliberation of his words.

He’s not used to this mood. He’s not used to mincing his words around Tsukishima, but for some reason, he can’t bring himself to talk freely.

Tsukishima snorts, slightly dispelling the tension. “They’re staying back to practice.”

“What’d you call them earlier?” Yamaguchi asks, reminiscing fondly on the previous day. “Volleyball idiots?”

“Something like that.” Tsukishima kicks at a rock. “But it’s not like you disagreed.”

Yamaguchi looks at the ground sheepishly. “Don’t tell them I did that.” He looks at the shrubs of a house they walk by.

Tsukishima shrugs. “Even if you insulted them to their faces,” he says offhandedly, “they’d still like you.”

There’s a compliment safely nested in there, and Yamaguchi mentally holds onto it.

“I guess that’s true,” he acquiesces, and the strange and stilted mood is back again, hanging over their heads. He lets the sound of their walking fill the silence.

Out of nowhere, Tsukishima’s walking pattern starts to become more irregular.

“You usually talk more.” His fingers turn over the strap on his bag, which is a simulacrum for his headphone’s cable.

“I do?” Yamaguchi asks, looking up from the ground. Light flashes above them, but he ignores it for now.

Tsukishima nods. “You always talk when we walk.”

Yamaguchi drops his gaze back to the ground. His shoulders hunch in a mix of sheepishness and self consciousness, and he can’t look Tsukishima in the eyes.

“Well,” he says, voice on the verge of stuttering.

Tsukishima looks at him expectantly.

“You always have your headphones on,” Yamaguchi blurts out, “so I just ramble.”

“I know that,” Tsukishima states, and the tiniest furrow appears between his brows.

Yamaguchi reddens slightly. Something wet lands on his shoulder, so he brushes it off with his hand. “You do?”

His habit of talking to himself is embarrassing. It comes out of the woodwork around Tsukishima, because he blocks out all noise, regardless of what it is.

“We’ve walked together for a long time, Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima’s fingers knock into each other as he shakes off a water droplet. “How could I not notice?”

His tone is straightforward and clinical. No nonsense. It tears a hole through Yamaguchi’s self consciousness, but in a way that leaves him feeling strangely exposed.

“But it’s…” Yamaguchi says, eyes tracing the gravel.

Something bitter rises in his chest. “What’s wrong with me not talking?”

The expression on Tsukishima’s face hardens. “Because you always talk,” he counters, annoyance leaking into his calm demeanour. “And if you aren’t, it means that something is wrong.”

He pushes up his glasses. There’s a blob of water on his right lens, and he brushes it irritably with his finger.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

The sky cracks into various shades of grey. A strange energy seeps into Yamaguchi, making him feel restless.

Tsukishima looks at him, an eyebrow slightly raised. “If you say so,” he responds, and his mouth presses into a straight line.

The thing with Tsukishima is that he’s perceptive. Sometimes it’s impressive, sometimes it’s annoying, and other times, it makes you feel like you’re being examined under a magnifying glass.

From the way Tsukishima looks at Yamaguchi, this time it constitutes as the latter.

“It’s not to do with you,” Yamaguchi says, trying to abate the critical way Tsukishima looks at him. If he doesn’t stop Tsukishima from analyzing him now, he’s not sure when it will end. “Or school.”

Tsukishima glances at him sharply.

“Or anyone else,” Yamaguchi responds, ducking his head, but not before staring at the empty gap where Tsukishima’s headphones reside.

Spots start to appear on the pavement. Tsukishima pays them no mind.

“Then what is it?” Tsukishima presses, eyes somehow glinting in the shoddy lighting.

Yamaguchi looks at the ground with more focus. “Just,” he forces out, his vocal chords refusing to formulate sentences, as if his own body is going against himself. “Something with myself.”

Tsukishima sighs. “I gathered that.”

He seems to have backed off, and Yamaguchi’s grip on his bag loosens. His fingers start to slip from wetness. The rain around them steadily increases, flattening his hair down.

“My place?” Tsukishima asks, nodding his head carelessly towards his oncoming house. “It’s closer.”

Yamaguchi gazes at Tsukishima’s house, which is several metres away.

“Unless you want to walk back in the rain,” Tsukishima adds, his lithe fingers curling over the handle of his bag.

The strange, stilted mood seems to grab Yamaguchi by his throat.

Frowning, Tsukishima nods towards his house again. “Come on,” he says, slightly urging this time. “You can have dinner. You know my mom won’t mind.”

Despite being friends for so long, Tsukishima has to assure Yamaguchi that he isn’t overstaying.

On the other hand, despite being friends for so long, Yamaguchi still feels like he’s overstaying, regardless of what the situation is.

“You didn’t have your headphones on,” Yamaguchi blurts out, watching his childhood friend stand in front of his house, which he’s invited him to in the midst of a storm. The place he’s invited him to for years. “So I didn’t want to talk.”

Tsukishima tilts his head, his expression morphing into surprise. “Because of that?” he asks, sounding slightly incredulous. “Really?”

Yamaguchi swallows harshly. “Yeah,” he answers, feeling stupid and awkward under Tsukishima’s gaze.

 _Here’s where he finally says it,_ Yamaguchi’s mind whispers traitorously. _Where he finally leaves._

“I don’t mind if you talk.” A little furrow appears between Tsukishima’s brows again. Rain starts to create wet spots on his jacket.

“You don’t?” Yamaguchi says, his surprise quelling the self doubt in his gut.

Tsukishima tilts his head again. “I don’t. I’ll listen, you know.” He looks down at the ground. “I always do.”

Rain begins to thud around them. Yamaguchi watches the sidewalk under his feet change colours.

“Okay,” he decides to say, his self doubt seeping out of his body. He looks up again. Tsukishima stares back at him unblinkingly. “Then I’ll try to talk more.”

A grin takes over his face, sappy and out of place, but unable to be stopped. “Sorry, Tsukki,” he apologizes. A raindrop trails down his chin. His jacket will need to be put into the dryer, and Tsukishima will undoubtedly offer his own to use.

Tsukishima gives him a small grin. “Shut up, Yamaguchi,” he says, but his voice carries no bite.

**Author's Note:**

> first day of tskymweek2020, woohoo. i had trouble with this prompt, so i wrote a 1k piece instead of something longer. i was going to do a fake dating au(and even had 2k-3k of it written), but i couldn't upload it bc of time constraints.
> 
> anyways, thanks for reading this far! i plan to upload something for each day, even if it kills me lol. have a great day/night.
> 
> ([here's my twitter](https://twitter.com/burningutica)(where i upload excerpts of wips/retweet fanart/complain about writing) and [here's my tumblr](https://phyllomena.tumblr.com/) (which i don't really use that often))


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